Ghost River by Tony Birch

behind the Catholic Church when a woman coming from the opposite direction limped towards them. She was wearing a pink dressing gown, slippers and a white turban on her head. She had a smoke in her mouth and was carrying a cage with two small birds inside. Zebra finches.
    The woman blocked Sonny’s pathway and jabbed a pair of nicotined fingers in the direction of the pram. ‘You got my Women’s Weekly ?’
    Sonny lifted the newspapers and pulled out a copy of a magazine he’d hidden earlier. ‘It come in this morning, Vera.’
    She rested the birdcage on the ground and stuck a hand in her dressing gown pocket, like she was going for her purse, Ren thought, watching her. She pulled out a packet of cigarettes, took three smokes out and handed them to Sonny. He put one in his mouth and the other two in his shirt pocket. Vera took a silver lighter out of the other dressing gown pocket and lit Sonny’s cigarette for him.
    â€˜There you go, lovely boy. Have a good suck on that.’
    â€˜Ta. What about my best mate here? He likes his smokes.’
    â€˜I just give you three, you cheeky bugga. If he’s your mate you can look after him yourself.’
    â€˜One Women’s Weekly equals three cigarettes, Vera. I can’t be sharing on that. I give him one and I’ve only got one left. Maybe he can do you a favour?’
    Vera looked Ren up and down. ‘You’re only a little fella, aren’t you? Poor urchin. They forget to feed you in the orphanage or something? What do they call you?’
    â€˜Ren.’
    â€˜Wren. A beautiful bird that one.’ She picked up the cage, brought it to her face and tried making bird sounds, which wasn’t easy with a cigarette hanging from her mouth. She blew smoke over the finches. ‘Look at this boy,’ she said to the birds. ‘Here’s another birdie for you, lovelies. He’s a wren. Hold on to this for me.’ She handed Ren the cage, opened the packet and silently counted the number of cigarettes she had left. She took a cigarette and handed it to Ren along with the lighter, in exchange for the bird cage. She watched closely as he lit up and took a decent drag.
    â€˜Now, nothing’s free in this world. You remember that, lovely boy. That ciggie I just give you is all about incentive. You want a big smoke from Vera, you got to work for it. You bring me a magazine, like my number one paper boy here, and I’ll take care of you.’
    She reached across the pram and tried stroking Sonny’s face. He pulled away from her.
    â€˜I love my TV Week ,’ she said, turning back to Ren. ‘You bring me that one.’
    She stuck a hand on the back of his neck, pulled him into her body, took the cigarette out of her mouth and slopped a wet smoky kiss on his lips. Ren wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, even Sonny, but he felt his dick jump in his pants.
    â€˜Don’t you forget. One magazine a week and I’ll look after you.’ She winked and laughed out loud, then turned around and headed back up the hill, chatting to her birds.
    â€˜She’s mad,’ Ren said.
    â€˜You’re telling me. First time I give her the Weekly she stuck her hand down the front of my pants and squeezed my balls.’
    â€˜What did you do?’
    â€˜Told her it would cost her more than three cigarettes if she wanted to be doing something like that.’
    â€˜What did she say?’
    â€˜Nothing. But the next morning she gave me a packet of Viscount twenties. Unopened.’
    â€˜What did you have to do for them?’
    â€˜Can’t say. You’ll get jealous.’
    â€˜How old is she?’
    â€˜Old old. Maybe thirty.’
    â€˜And you let her play with your dick?’
    â€˜Didn’t you hear me? A full pack of Viscount.’
    â€˜Why’s she carrying the birds round with her?’
    â€˜They need the fresh air, she says.’
    â€˜She shouldn’t be smoking